


Proving Loyalty

by RavensFan1989



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, Stoose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 12:11:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7976356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavensFan1989/pseuds/RavensFan1989
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stannis and his army are camped outside of Winterfell. He believes he has only two choices available to him: attack or retreat. Roose, however, has opted to give him a third option.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proving Loyalty

**Author's Note:**

> This is based more on the books than on the show, but I have taken some of my own liberties so it doesn't completely fit into either universe.

They were outside the walls of Winterfell. If it was still summer, then a siege might have been practicable. But it wasn't summer. Winter had come, and already Stannis could see his army slowly fading away right before his eyes. The mountain clans of the North were doing well enough. It was his southerners who were faring the worst. Winter to them was a light coating of snow and cold weather that could be kept at bay by a warm fire.  
  
But now they were in the middle of the North. Fires were hard to build, and, even when one managed to make one, it did very little to warm anyone up. Marching from Deepwood Motte to Winterfell had been hard but at least then they had been on the move. Now they were standing still with only two viable options: to attack or to retreat. As far as Stannis was concerned, the latter was not an option. If they left, who knew how long this winter would last. They needed to fight, and they needed to fight now.  
  
He was in his tent looking over a map of Winterfell when one of his captains pushed open his tent flap. "Your Grace," he said, "One of Lord Bolton's men is outside of the camp. He's carrying a white flag and claims his master wishes to come to speak with you."  
  
Stannis had to replay those words in his head a few times before he believed he had heard him correctly. "Lord Bolton is sitting securely behind the walls of Winterfell with more men than I have. Why would he wish to speak with me about anything?"  
  
His captain could only shrug his shoulders. "I don't know, Your Grace. He said no more than that."  
  
The King rubbed at his temples. If he didn't have a headache these days, then it always seemed like one was threatening to arrive. "I'll talk to him." It couldn't hurt to hear what the man had to say.

A few minutes later, a short man with a shaggy brown beard was escorted into Stannis’ tent. The King dismissed the men who had brought him. Roose was not the kind of man who would send a lone assassin into his enemy’s camp to kill their leader. He wasn’t an honorable or trustworthy man but why do something that was not necessary? Stannis was in dire straits and Roose knew it.

The messenger wasted no time in speaking. “Your Grace, Lord Bolton wishes to meet with you this evening. He sees no reason why any lives need to be lost here and hopes that you agree with him in that regard.”

When he stopped, Stannis let a moment of silence pass, before he let out a half scoff and half chuckle. “If he wishes for no blood to be shed here, then he can surrender Winterfell to me.”

“That is not—“

Stannis raised up a hand to quiet him. “That is not going to happen. I know. If I walk into Winterfell, then how do I know I will be walking out again?”

“Lord Bolton is willing to allow you to bring as many of your men as you wish with you,” he answered, “and he is willing to bring his son and heir Lord Ramsay to your camp to remain there until you come back.”

That was the answer that Stannis was expecting to hear. He could turn the meeting down. It was what the mountain clans with him would want him to do. But talking to Lord Bolton did not mean that he was going to accept whatever terms the Lord of the Dreadfort wished to offer him. And he was curious to see what conditions inside of the keep were like.

“I will speak with Lord Bolton this evening,” he agreed. He hated saying those words, but he would have hated not knowing what might have been if he had decided not to go.

The messenger nodded his head. “I will be back with Lord Ramsay then.” He bowed and was escorted back outside.

 

~*~

 

“You _can’t_ do this, Your Grace.”

“He’ll kill you, and then he’ll thank us for killing his bastard for him.”

“The only person in the Seven Kingdoms less trustworthy than Lord Bolton is Lord Frey.”

“Winterfell belongs to House Stark.”

Those were some of the many arguments that Stannis heard when it became general knowledge around the camp about what he was going to be doing in the evening. That last argument came predominantly from the mountain clans. Jon Snow—the bastard of the late Eddard Stark—had told Stannis how to win those clans to his side. And now here Stannis was quite possibly prepared to let the Boltons keep Winterfell, if that was what Roose wished to discuss, as the King suspected it was.

His answers to each of the arguments were:

“I _can_ do it, and I will do it.”

“If he kills me, then do all that it is in your power to do to set Shireen on the Iron Throne.”

“You do not need to trust someone to discuss terms with them.”

“Sansa Stark is missing, and the rest of the Starks are dead. Would you have Winterfell run by ghosts?”

He had offered Winterfell to Jon—had offered to legitimize him, to make him as much of a Stark has his half-brothers and half-sisters had been. Jon had refused the offer. If Jon had only said yes…Well, there was no point in thinking about ‘what ifs.’ Stannis was in the position he was in now, and he was going to do whatever it took to win the throne. Some of the mountain clans might slink away tonight but he would deal with that when, and if, it became a problem.

All arguments were cut off when the messenger came back to their camp with Ramsay in tow. Stannis had selected half a dozen men to come with him. He had wanted to bring half of that and his men had wanted him to bring twice as many, so they had compromised at six. They followed Bolton's man into Winterfell. Stannis noted that much of what he saw had been repaired but there was still quite a bit of work to do. The walls, however, were as strong as they had ever been. Weaknesses inside would not matter if they couldn't get past the walls.  
  
The messenger extended an invitation to Stannis' men for a hot meal. Stannis wanted them all to go eat but two of them decided to remain with their King. The messenger lead the trio to the door of Roose's chambers. He opened the door and announced His Grace's presence. Stannis gestured for his guards to wait outside, and the messenger exited the room as Stannis entered it.  
  
The Warden of the North was sitting behind his desk. He wore no armor but Stannis knew he was still a formidable man. He didn't look like much, except for his pale eyes that were quite unsettling to look upon. Roose stood up. "Your Grace," he greeted him, bowing his head.    

Stannis could not tell if Roose was using that title mockingly or actually meant it. Either way, he was not going to linger here any longer than he had to. “I’m here. Talk.”

Roose moved around his desk and walked over to the table. He poured himself a cup of water. “Wine? Water?”

The King shook his head no to both. He was uncomfortable and growing more so with each passing second. Diplomacy was not his strong suit, but Davos was in White Harbor—or who knew where, as Stannis hadn’t heard from him for a very long time—so here he was.

He made his way back over to his desk, leaning up against the edge of it, before continuing on. “There is no need for you to lose any men here…There is no need for _either_ of us to lose any men here. I will declare for you and offer you as many soldiers as you wish to take south with you.”

Stannis ground his teeth together, his eyes full of suspicion. “You would turn your back on the Lannisters who gave you the North?” he asked.

Roose couldn’t help but grin at Stannis’ wariness. “It was Tywin Lannister who gave me the North. He is dead and a boy sits the Iron Throne.”

“And the boy’s mother?”

“Frightens me no more than the boy.” He took a sip of his water.

Stannis didn’t need to ask him what he wanted in return: to be left alone to rule as Warden of the North from Winterfell and for help should any of the northern Houses decide to try to overthrow them in their currently precarious position. It was little enough to want but Stannis couldn’t help but focus on how Roose had won his position as Warden of the North. The man had helped butcher guests at a wedding. For a man who valued justice as highly as Stannis did, making any kind of a deal with Roose would feel too much like compromising his own morals.  

He could leave, and he could fight; and fighting would likely end in a defeat even more sound than the one he had suffered at King's Landing. Or he could accept Roose's terms; and accepting his terms would mean more men for him--hopefully offsetting the mountain clans that were likely going to leave him--and a man loyal to him in charge in the North...or so Roose would have him believe.  
  
"Why should I trust you? As some people are so fond of saying, words are wind." There was nothing to stop Roose from betraying him in some manner the moment that he marched around Winterfell and began heading further south.

Roose’s grin disappeared from his face. “Your Grace, give me the opportunity to prove my loyalty to you and I will gladly do so. Ask anything of me right now and, if it is in my power to give it to you, I will.”

He had already offered Stannis men, and Stannis was not sure what else he could ask of the Warden of the North right now…Or was he so unsure? He couldn’t believe the thought had even entered his head but, if Roose was willing to do it, then Stannis could rest easier knowing that Lord Bolton meant what he said. Besides, the last time Ser Davos had been able to help keep his King’s bed warm at night had been many months ago when they had parted ways at Castle Black.

If he was going to ask it of Roose, then he better ask it now or else he was never going to be able to get the words out of his mouth. "Get on your knees, Lord Bolton."  
  
Roose set his cup aside and did as he was instructed. He looked up at the King. "I thought words were wind." He could be forgiven if he thought Stannis wanted to hear him swear some oath of fealty and nothing more than that.  
  
"It isn't words I want." He began to unlace his trousers.  
  
Understanding dawned in Roose's eyes. "Is this how you test the loyalty of all of your bannermen, Your Grace?" There was a teasing note in his voice. If this was what his new King wanted, then Roose would not deny him it. Stannis would not be the first man whose intimate company he had enjoyed.  
  
Stannis' lips twitched upwards in the barest hint of a smile. "Only the ones who I know will keep quiet about it afterwards." The truth, however, was something else; the only man Stannis had ever been with was Davos--who was never going to find out about this. He knew Davos loved him, and Stannis was pretty certain that he would soon feel the same about the knight. But he was the last man he wanted to be thinking about right now.  
  
The King slipped down his trousers. Roose rested his hands on Stannis' hips. He had not known how his meeting with Stannis would go but he certainly could have never predicted that he would be servicing the man like this. One hand moved to wrap around the base of his manhood, while the other remained where it was. His tongue licked his head and then ran up and down the length of his shaft. And then Roose took him fully into his mouth.  
  
Stannis' fingers curled into what little of Roose's hair as they could. His hips bucked ever so slightly forward, although he let Roose do most of the work. It was clear that the man had done this before. If he could have thought more clearly in the moment, then he would have realized that that might mean this wasn't the proof of loyalty he should have sought. But, right now, Stannis' world had shrunk down to just the two of them. Politics and the war meant little to him at the moment.  
  
Neither of them could say how much time had passed before Stannis decided that he wanted more than just that. "Enough," he uttered, barely above a whisper.  
  
Roose stood up. He was sporting an obvious bulge in his pants and a confused expression on his face. "Have I displeased you, Your--"  
  
Stannis didn't allow him to finish his question. Their lips met in a passionate kiss. Roose quickly recovered from being initially taken aback. He pressed himself up against Stannis, moving his lips down to his neck and taking great pleasure from the moans that elicited out of the King.  
  
They took a step back from each other and began to undress themselves without a word needing to be spoken between them. Stannis' eyes began to scan the room. Roose knew what he was looking for. "Wait here," he said and then disappeared into his bedroom. He came back a moment later holding a small vial out to Stannis.  
  
Stannis took it and unscrewed the lid. "The table, my lord." He watched as Roose bent over it. He was sure the Warden had done this before too. Stannis poured half of the oil onto his hand. He placed his clean hand on Roose's back. He stuck one finger of his other inside of him. He could feel Roose squirm as he tried to get more comfortable. Stannis stuck another finger inside of him and began to move them in and out.  
  
Roose wrapped a hand around himself. Unlike his wife, Roose was usually quiet when it came to activities of this nature but moans did escape his throat every now and then whenever Stannis began to move his fingers at just the right pace or whenever he managed to hit a particularly sensitive spot at just the right angle.  
  
Once he deemed him ready, Stannis removed his fingers and poured the rest of the oil onto his manhood. He guided himself into Roose a little bit at a time. Once he was fully in, he placed his hands on the Warden's hips for support. He moved slowly at first, only picking up his pace when Roose began to beg him to. Stannis' breath became more and more ragged. And, just when he began to think his heart might explode in his chest soon, his release came on him all of a sudden. He spilled his seed inside Roose, and he gave him a few more perfunctory thrusts before pulling out.  
  
Roose turned over and sat on the edge of the table. Stannis watched as he finished himself off. They let a few moments of silence pass, as each worked on catching their breath and steadying their heartbeat. Roose grabbed a napkin off of the table and cleaned himself up. He then tossed a fresh one to Stannis, and Stannis did the same.  
  
It wasn't until they were both fully clothed again that either of them spoke. "Winterfell is quite crowded," Roose said, "but I can find room for a few dozen of your men tonight, and the rest my men can bring hot meals to in camp. Tomorrow we can discuss how many of those men will accompany you to King's Landing. Tonight, however, we celebrate our _coming_ to peaceful terms."  
  
Stannis didn't mind Roose immediately getting back to the more important business at hand. He nodded his head, silently acquiescing to the points made. "Thank you, Lord Bolton, for your...generosity. I hope that you remain a loyal subject and give me no cause to ever need to march north with an army behind me."  
  
Roose smirked at that. "Then you shouldn't have made my proof of loyalty so enjoyable, Your Grace. I may need to cause trouble for you every so often so I have another chance to prove I am truly your leal subject."  
  
The King should have bit his tongue and remained quiet. Instead, he found himself saying, "You don't need to cause trouble for it to happen again." _I'm sorry, Ser Davos_. "A king must needs inspect his kingdoms and, if it seems I travel to the North more often than the others, no one will question it." The North did have the habit of being a thorn in the sides of many kings.  
  
"I look forward to those visits," Roose replied as he resumed his seat behind his desk.  
  
As he watched him, Stannis couldn't help but wonder what he had gotten himself into. He left Roose's chambers and collected the men who had come with him.

 

~*~

 

Back in his camp, the southerners rejoiced at the news. The mountain clans, though, did not. Stannis didn't doubt that they would soon be sneaking away back to their homes. The men Roose would give him would have to make up for that loss. It was less than an hour later when Roose's men began to arrive with the promised food and news that three dozen of them would have a roof over their heads tonight.  
  
Stannis was one of those three dozen. When Roose stole a quiet moment with him during the feast to invite him to share his bed with him for the night, it had taken much of his willpower to refuse the invitation. But it hadn't mattered at all. Roose had decided to sneak into the King's room, and Stannis had been glad and eager to take him again.  
  
Roose quickly drifted off to sleep, but Stannis lingered awake for a while longer. If he woke up tomorrow morning, then he could no longer harbor any doubts about Roose's loyalty. A Stark had helped a Baratheon win the Iron Throne in the past, but now it was time for a Bolton and Baratheon alliance. It would never sit completely right with Stannis. But a king's duty often made him become bedfellows with those he would rather have nothing to do with.  
  
His options had been limited, and he had chosen his course. Stannis closed his eyes and let sleep take him.  
  
He woke up with the rising sun. Roose seemed not to have moved an inch during the night.  
  
The Stag and the Flayed Man. An alliance the Seven Kingdoms would not soon forget.


End file.
